It was about 11:30 as Tom rode into the town of Ross. Tom had completed thirty-eight and a half hours of his 600-kilometer ride. He only had an hour and a half left to get to the San Francisco side of the Golden Gate Bridge to successfully complete the ride.
He suddenly realized that he was pretty unfamiliar with the route though and would have to rely on his cue sheets he had attached to his handle bar. On his last rides through this town, he had been following other riders; but now he was alone and the roads were not clearly marked. He reached a fork in the road that confused him, so he turned his bike around and retraced a block of his route to double check the road signs with his cue sheets.
Tom was aware there was a police car in the area, but was surprised when the policeman zipped up past him and stopped in his route. Tom imagined the policeman was stopping to offer him some helpful directions and that he would be on his way in no time. Tom quickly realized the policeman wasn’t just stopping to live up to that badge claim of protecting and serving, but was more likely looking for something to do to fill an otherwise boring night. Tom attempted to explain that he was on a timed-ride and needed to get to San Francisco before 1 a.m. The policeman’s response was clear disbelief that it was even possible to go all the way to San Francisco that night on a bicycle.
Within ten minutes a back up car had arrived, but that policeman at least remained in his car. Tom said he was surprised that nobody came out of their homes to find out what kind of spectacular crime or tragedy had occurred on their street.
After shining his bright light in Tom’s eyes for about ten minutes, Tom tactfully tried to explain that the bright light would be less than helpful with his night vision for the remainder of his ride. The policeman continued to act as though Tom was making up this bike ride. He implied that Tom had been trying to hide or evade him. Tom said that not only was he not trying to hide from anyone while out that night, he felt he had gone to extreme measures to be seen.
As I mentioned in the last chapter of this story, Tom had eleven lights on the back of his bike as well as reflectors, plus two enormous lights on the front of the bike, and a light on his helmet, along with his reflective sash and ankle bands. It is very difficult to envision the policeman looking at Tom, who was lit up like a Christmas tree, and implying Tom was trying to hide in the middle of the street. Needless to say, after the fact this seems very amusing; but, at the time, it was only adding to Tom’s ever increasing stress.
As the minutes ticked by, the policeman continued to ask Tom many questions, most of which Tom considered stupid, and he had an incredibly difficult time maintaining his calm through it all. Ultimately the policeman checked Tom’s ID and checked to be sure he had no outstanding warrants against him before he reluctantly let Tom go on his way. Thirty minutes had elapsed. Tom had almost thirty miles left to ride and only 60 minutes to complete it.
In another Marin town (Tom wasn’t sure which one), he had another escort; although he didn’t see them, he was sure it was another policeman. It was now after midnight and he couldn’t afford to be delayed again, so he was very careful to come to complete stops and put his foot down at the three stop signs in that town, and carefully look both ways down each street. After that, he said he was on his own, finally. He said he couldn’t believe how quickly he was able to get up the Camino Alto hill and really looked forward to that downhill to make up time. One car was driving up as Tom was descending the hill, and scared a rabbit out right into his path. He was most grateful to have excellent brakes to avoid a problem.
Tom said his energy surge that carried him through Sausalito was wearing off fast, and the final climb up to the bridge seemed much tougher than the last hill he had ridden. At that point every second counted, and he hoped the gate to the bridge would be opened, but no such luck. He had to stop his bike and ring the button before it finally started to slowly open.
Tom mounted his bike and pedaled like the wind across the bridge. He arrived at his destination 39 hours and 59 minutes after his departure. He had succeeded in meeting the riding criteria for a successful completion with one minute to spare. Alayne greeted him with thankful open arms; as Tom drove home with Alayne, he smiled and drifted into a most welcome sleep.
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